


There's a Little Black Spot on the Sun Today

by Sailorhathor



Category: Miracles (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Crossover, F/M, Genderswap, Religious Themes & References, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-01-15
Updated: 2008-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-22 22:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sailorhathor/pseuds/Sailorhathor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dangerous religious artifact is stolen from John Winchester's storage locker. He sends his daughter Deanne in pursuit of it, but first, she must rescue her little brother from a pack of sirens out for revenge. Their reunion only complicates the job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Little Black Spot

**There's a Little Black Spot on the Sun Today**  
A _Supernatural/Miracles_ AU  
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)

 **Rating:** Rated Adult for gory violence, language, and sexual content  
 **Word Count:** 3,803  
 **Universe/Series:** Ashes of Dreams and Bloodstained Streets V. II, Little Black Spot Series  
 **Timeline:** Winsister AU. The _Miracles_ characters will be showing up in the second chapter. Written for **10_switched** ; the aim is to write ten stories where the gender of a central character has been switched. Dean was born a girl in this story. It starts in late 2005 while Sam is still in college. Instead of being flame-broiled on the ceiling, Jessica is revealed to be not what she seems.  
 **Warnings:** Female sirens in heat manhandling Sam and Deanne with dubious consent! Later chapters will have girl!Dean/Sam and other pairings. Deanne drops the C-bomb. Heavy on the fanservice (Sam gives good writhe).  
 **Author's Notes:** I put a poll up on my journal so friends could help me pick the best name for girl!Dean. The classic girl!Dean name Deanne got the most votes, so that's how her name was chosen.  
My Live Action Model for Deanne is actress Erica Durance. You can, of course, imagine her looking any way your mind pleases; I can't police yer brain. ;)  
All of the stories written in this series will have titles taken from the lyrics of "King of Pain" by The Police.

  
        So, apparently, Jessica was a siren.

        Sam was just finding that out tonight as he watched the feathered, human-like creatures dance about the woman he loved, the skin of her arms and legs now partially covered with iridescent purple and blue feathers. He even saw patches of them coming around the sides of her neck. It was something Sam could have dealt with - heck, they were a pretty color - but Jessica had already announced that her clan planned to use him as food for their young after he fertilized their eggs.

        That was a relationship killer if he ever heard one.

        Every time Sam made a move to defend himself, she would start singing, and he would be enthralled by its supernatural power, becoming docile and doing whatever she commanded. Jessica bound his arms and legs to the wooden stake with no resistance.

        "It's so beautiful," Sam declared, swaying his head in time with the opera-style song that she crooned to weave her spell.

        Jessica stroked his cheek and the side of his chin. She stopped singing, speaking instead, informing him of his fate. "Sam Winchester, your family has hunted our kind for at least twenty years. Your father killed one of our sisters in a most brutal fashion," Jessica said angrily. "I tracked you down, befriending you out of a desire for revenge. Now, we will finally have that revenge!"

        Her siren sisters cheered. It sounded like wild, chaotic birdsong.

        She raised a triumphant fist in the air and turned to each side of the room to acknowledge every siren assembled there. Jessica waited for the noise to die down before continuing. "I think it is fitting that the child of the great John Winchester should wind up food for our young." She said John's name and the title she had given him with sarcasm. The other sirens cheered again. "As your family once brought us death, now it will bring us new life!"

        Having regained control of his mind, Sam shook his head in disbelief, tears brimming in his eyes. "I can't believe you played with my heart like that. I love you, Jessica."

        She leaned in very close to him, eye to eye. Those eyes were now entirely black, the beady eyes of a bird of prey. "That's _your_ problem."

        Sam burst into tears.

        Jessica looked at him as a curiosity, tilting her head and regarding him with squinted eyes. "We did that so many times after the death of our sister. Tell me, Sam... have you ever heard a siren cry?"

        "Are you saying... you never loved me?"

        A sinister smile crossing her face, Jessica brushed his nose with her own, something they used to do all the time as a sign of endearment. "Your Eskimo kisses meant nothing to me, you simpering fool. I only cared for avenging my sister's murder."

        Sam cried harder in reaction. "How can you say that?"

        She smiled the same way, venomous and satisfied. "Because it's true."

        "No... you must've killed Jessica... absorbed her... she would never say such awful things to me."

        Jessica slammed her hand down on the stake above his head, making him flinch and the wood shake in its stand. "Think what you like. The only thing you need to understand is you're about to feel the wrath of twenty-six bereaved sirens... after you've done your manly duties." She grabbed his crotch and squeezed it, giving it a good shake. Sam gasped in surprise and a little pain. "At least you can enjoy that part."

        The door at the back of the warehouse suddenly flew open; it had been kicked in. The person who did it stepped into the room as all of the sirens turned with a gasp. Jessica grinned; she knew who it was immediately... a blonde 26-year-old girl with her hair to mid-back, wearing a black lace-up shirt and worn jeans with a brown leather jacket. They all stared at two things - the double-edged sword held at her side, and the Spongebob Squarepants knit cap pulled down over her ears.

        "Deanne!" Sam yelled.

        Jessica turned with that same wicked smile upon her face. "Your sister Deanne?" she asked, as if she didn't know.

        One of the sirens, acting as a sentry, screeched and ran at Deanne. Seeing the movement out of the corner of her eye, Deanne turned without a word, swinging the sword around in an arc. The motion of the weapon as it cut through the air made a deep, musical sound. The sirens reacted with pained screams, putting their hands over their ears. Before the sentry could do anything to defend herself or her clan, Deanne had sliced her head clean off.

        "Noooo!" another siren screamed, and rushed at Deanne with talon-like nails splayed. The girl hunter dispatched of this one just as fast as she had the first.

        "Stop it!" Jessica commanded. "Can't you see she's got the Sword of Odysseus?!"

        The other sirens gasped again. They had heard the legend of that sword.

        Deanne held them off with just the threat of the weapon she held in her hands. "That's my brother you have there, bitch." She spoke very loudly, presumably so Jessica could hear her on the opposite end of the warehouse. "My name is Deanne Winchester, and I never had any gum. I just came here to kick your ass."

        Not waiting for Deanne to make good on that promise, Jessica began to sing.

        Sam yelled, "Deanne, get out!" before the siren's song told hold of him.

        Deanne, smiling, swayed on her feet in time with the melody. "Mm, that's pretty," she said.

        Inside, Sam knew they were in deep trouble when Deanne said she enjoyed opera-style singing. That kind of music would usually cause her to stick her finger down her throat and make a gagging sound anytime she passed it on the radio. But the sirens had control of his brain, so he just kept smiling.

        The creatures moved up on Deanne. One tried to take the sword from her, but she recoiled as if she'd touched a hot stove.

        "You idiot, don't you know the legend? Only the head of a siren clan can touch the Sword of Odysseus," Jessica informed them, singing the words to make them part of the song. "Bring her to me."

        The sirens simply picked Deanne up, carrying her over their heads as if she was a large, rolled up rug. Her arms hung limp at her sides, the sword swinging with the motion of her limb like an albatross around a mariner's neck, like a bad luck omen. The sirens avoided touching it.

        The creatures guarding Sam knew what was coming. They began to get excited for the spawning and the revenge that would soon follow. A siren ripped at Sam's shirt; the others helped her until it was just a tatter of shredded fabric and buttons dangling on thread, and they rubbed his muscular chest in anticipation. Sam writhed on the stake, caught up in the ecstasy of the siren's thrall.

        The creatures put Deanne down, standing her on her feet before Jessica. A particularly excited siren stood behind Deanne and wrapped her arms around her, rubbing and stroking her breasts through her shirt, making sure to squeeze her nipples extra hard. Deanne's face registered disgust at being manhandled by the siren for a brief second before she mirrored Sam's ecstasy. The overheated sirens around Sam shifted their attention to his crotch; several hands stroked down the front of his pants, making him moan and writhe in his bonds.

        Jessica smirked at the sight of the two siblings under her power. The other sirens took over her song so she could tell Deanne what was in store for the two of them. "Hello, Deanne. Thank you for making this easier for us by showing up here in a valiant attempt to save your brother. Now we don't have to hunt you down." She joined the other siren in harassing Deanne, cupping her breasts and teasing her nipples with her thumbs. "We can't breed with you, but you can serve as food for our young. Until they are born, you will be ours, to satisfy our sexual needs. Sirens in heat... hm, it's a messy thing." Jessica reached behind her and gave Sam's crotch a good rub and an aggressive squeeze while at the same time, mimicking that action on one of Deanne's tits. Sam moaned loudly, but Deanne only smiled with tight lips. "Mm, but you Winchesters do make some gorgeous stock. If only we could keep you both as sex slaves forever. But that's not practical, is it? Now..." Carefully reaching for the sword, Jessica stayed wary of a trick. "...give me the Sword of Odysseus."

        When she leaned forward, it brought her face closer to Deanne's. Deanne went, "Psst."

        Cocking an eye at her, Jessica stopped cold with apprehension. The other sirens were still singing, but...

        Deanne put on her sexiest come-hither expression, putting her free hand behind her head. "Do you want this body?"

        Blinking in bewilderment, Jessica tried to figure out if Deanne was still under the influence of the thrall or if she had somehow shaken it. But that was impossible. No one could do that. "Uhhh... yes?"

        With a mischievous smirk, Deanne pushed up on the cap and her hair so Jessica could see her ear.

        She had never been under the power of the thrall.

        She was wearing earplugs.

        "Never gonna get it," Deanne said.

        Jessica went for the sword, but Deanne brought it up, teasing the siren by darting it in and out of her hand with a sing-songy, "Oops, too slow," before swinging the weapon around in a high arc and bringing it down to cut off the screaming, cowering Jessica's head.

        The chaos that followed is what Deanne considered the fun part. She knew from the research her father had done that sirens relied almost totally on the power of their leader. If the head siren was killed, the other members became powerless. Furthermore, according to tradition, they were not allowed to leave her body; instead, they were supposed to commit suicide right where she lay.

        The Winchesters would help them accomplish this. But first, a victory dance.

        While the sirens screamed in horror and grief, Deanne mocked them, tantalizingly rubbing her hands over her body and gyrating like a stripper without a pole while singing the only pop song she'd ever liked. It had just the right amount of attitude for just such an occasion. "Never gonna get it, never gonna get it, neeeever gonna get it, never gonna get it..."

        The spell broken, Sam shook it off and called, "Deanne! Untie me!"

        She finished her song. "Never gonna get it, never get it." After giving her ass a little shake, Deanne licked her thumb and put it on the seat of her pants. "Sssss."

        "Deanne, goddamn it!"

        Because she still had the earplugs in, Deanne couldn't hear what Sam was saying, but she had seen his mouth move that time. "What?!"

        Rolling his eyes, Sam repeated, "Untie me!"

        "What?!"

        Sam frustratedly struggled in his bonds.

        Jumping up on the platform, Deanne yelled, "Here, let me untie you!"

        He rolled his eyes up again and stomped his feet to the limits of the ropes. "The court would understand if I killed her now. It'd be justifiable homicide."

        "What?!" Deanne used the sword to cut through the ropes holding Sam's left wrist down, and then the other.

        His hands now free, Sam smacked the silly cap off her head. "Remove the earplugs!" he yelled, and pointed at his ears.

        "You think I want to hear these bitches whine?!" she hollered back.

        Sam, not waiting to be invited to do it, reached over and took out her earplugs himself. "We can't talk when you've got those in," he said, and bent down to untie his feet.

        Deanne quipped, "You think I want to hear _you_ whine? And don't disrespect the Bob." She snatched up the Spongebob cap, stuffed it in her pocket, and bent down again to lift her pant leg. Deanne had a sheath strapped to her calf that held a large knife. Taking it out, she handed it to Sam. "Sirens have tough hides. The Sword of Odie works best, but tough titties, it's mine, so you may have to work kind of hard with that knife."

        "Sword of _Odie_? Don't say it like that. It's not the sword of the dog that lives with Garfield," he scoffed. After using the knife to cut through the rest of the ropes, Sam looked at it reflectively and sighed. "I vowed I'd never hunt again."

        Deanne felt caught between her emotional concern for her little brother and her need to finish the job. "Yeah, well, just do it this one time. We'll be here forever if you don't help. There's almost thirty of these bitches."

        Sighing again, Sam gave a resigned nod and prepared to do his grisly work.

        The sirens knew they were doomed; they had no place to go. Some cowered around Jessica's headless body and wailed, praying for mercy. Others ran about aimlessly, screaming.

        Running at a pack of them hunkered together against a wall, Deanne teased, "You guys like to sing, huh? How do you like my song?" She started to warble a tune by Kiss. "Oh oh-oh ohhhh, yeah... oh oh-oh ohhh, yeah..." She moved swiftly through the crowd of frightened sirens, cutting off their heads with efficient and merciless skill. "Stand up, you don't have to be afraid... get down, love is like a hurricane..."

        Sam watched her for a moment, taking out the creatures with glee, and wondered if he would ever be able to take that kind of pleasure in this work. Walls splattered with blood; lifeless, staring heads rolling around on the floor... how did his father and sister do it every day without going mad? He just looked at the gleaming knife, thinking it over.

        "Hey Sammy, sing them a song. They just _love_ it."

        Sam jumped, startled out of his thoughts. "Uh, a song? Uhhh..." He started tapping his foot and half-heartedly sang, "Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg..."

        Deanne lowered the sword and shook her head. "That was _pathetic_."

        Breaking with tradition, two sirens made a run for it. Deanne pursued them and used the large, intimidating sword to cut off both their heads at once.

        Sam cringed at the spray of blood, the cut-off screams, the boisterous laughter that flowed out of his sister while she looked for another siren to slaughter and sang that Kiss song about how she loved it loud. He knew the sirens weren't virtuous creatures and that they needed to die, but to take such joy in it...

        It was then that Sam looked down and caught sight of Jessica's body. How he'd loved her. _Still_ loved her. And she'd betrayed him, played with his heart and pretended to love him while she bided her time until the other sirens came, until they were in heat. It was all about using him to reproduce and get revenge on his father. Sam hadn't even performed the deed they wanted to avenge.

        Jessica had represented his normalcy, his hope, his future. And she'd just been another job.

        With an angry howl, Sam turned on the nearest siren and seized her by the hair. She screeched, scratching at his chest and arms as he began to saw off her head with the knife. Her efforts to strike back weakened, her cries tapered, as her eyes rolled up into her head and her blood poured out onto the floor. Soon, her talons clawed weakly at the empty air only out of reflex, and then not at all.

        Panting hard, Sam threw aside the head and went for another one.

        Deanne made her way around the east side of the room and eventually found herself finished. She turned to see how Sammy was coming along. The song she'd been singing jauntily died in her throat. His chest and the front of his pants were covered in blood. There were deep grooves cut into his arms and chest from the talons of the sirens that fought back. Deanne instantly regretted that she hadn't let him use the sword. It was cleaner, and kept one at arm's length while killing the prey.

        It should be her slashed all to hell, not Sammy. Not her little brother. It was her job to keep him safe.

        Sam stood over a dead siren with her severed head still clutched by the hair in one hand and the bloody knife in the other. The jagged ends of her skin dripped blood on the floor, _plop... plop... plop..._ the sound shouldn't have seemed so loud in the room, not with one last siren screaming in fear. But Deanne could hear it clearly. Sam panted angrily and his arms shook.

        "Sammy? Hey, Sammy..." Deanne came over to him, her tone soothing. "Put that down, okay?"

        He gave a look to each hand and dropped the head, figuring that was the object his sister wanted him to release. The wet plop sent shivers up and down Deanne's spine. She'd never seen Sam like this. "It couldn't be the knife you wanted me to drop," he said, his voice raspy and low. "There's one left."

        The frightened siren cowered against a wall with her hands shielding her face.

        "You're right, Sammy. But give me the knife. Okay? You did a good job. I'll get the last one."

        "No." Sam lifted the knife to look at the blade. Blood ran slowly down the sharp side, over the handle and Sam's fingers. "She pretended she loved me, Deanne. Jessica _pretended_ to love me." He looked at his sister with tears brimming in his eyes. "How could someone do that? What kind of _monster_ is able to do that?"

        "That's why we're killin' 'em, Sammy. To keep them from doing more evil the way they did it to you. Okay?" Deanne looked around, picked up a discarded piece of Sam's shirt, and covered her hand with it. Then she gently took the knife from Sam, saying, "Come on, you're hurt." He held onto it for a short few seconds, but then let it go with a grunt. Deanne wrapped the fabric around the bloody handle and tried to clean it off as best she could. "Hold tight for a sec."

        Deanne hated to put a bloody knife in a sheath. The sheath was fur-lined; it would be ruined. She picked up more pieces of Sam's shirt and wrapped the knife in them before putting it back. Then she advanced on the last siren.

        "Mercy! Mercy!" the siren begged. Her body quaked with terror.

        Deanne's lips curled back into a sneer. "Like the mercy you whores showed my brother? Uh, uh huh, sure, yeah," she said in a sarcastic tone. "Duh, my name's Deanne Winchester, and I are stupid. I'm going to let the siren go after she tried to kill Sammy. Duuuuuh. You think I'm an idiot? Is this a blonde thing?" While the siren uttered a last scream of protest, Deanne swung back and then sliced off her head. "You're the stupid one, you cunt." And she spit on the creature's body.

        Sam didn't move at first, just stared at the floor. Coming back over to him, Deanne said, "Piece of cake," and patted his shoulder. Then she picked up a blanket that had been laid across a nearby couch and wrapped it around Sam. "Hey look, siren spawning couch. It's a lot more comfortable than a nest, I guess," Deanne tried to joke, but Sam was unresponsive. She rubbed his shoulders through the blanket. "Come with me," she urged, and walked him to the door.

        Deanne took him to the Impala. Sam almost began to cry at the sight of it; he hadn't ridden in that car for years. How he longed for something familiar in the face of having everything he loved ripped from his arms in one night... Jessica was dead. Oh God, Jessica was dead! Sam's entire body went numb.

        After laying a blanket across the passenger's spot in the front seat, Deanne took Sam by the shoulders and eased him toward the car.

        "I can do it myself!" he suddenly snapped. Pouting like a petulant child, Sam got into the car, hugging the blanket around himself.

        "You stay right here and wait for me, okay? I'll be right back." Deanne stopped to lovingly run a hand through Sam's hair. "It'll be alright, Sammy." Then she shut the door.

        Sam heard her rooting around in the trunk before seeing her run back to the warehouse with a red can of gasoline in her hand. Of course. They had to cover up the true species of the creatures they'd just killed as best they could; the authorities couldn't handle it.

        While Deanne poured gas over the body of each siren, telling them to, "Soak it up," someone watched her from the office of the warehouse. Someone who looked just like Jessica.

        "Goddamn Winchesters," she whispered angrily, and snuck out of the building.

        Deanne made a trail of gas to the door. She lit a match and tossed it in, hanging around long enough to hear and see the gas light. _Whoosh!_ Deanne grinned and bounced on her heels. "I love that noise," she said, and headed for the car.

        The warehouse was just beginning to blaze when they drove off into the night.

        Sam said nothing for a while. It scared his sister, how much he _wasn't_ talking. She eventually said, "You still with me over there?"

        He scoffed and raised his hand, wiggling it back and forth to indicate that he was so-so.

        Deanne laughed softly. "First thing we do when we get back to the hotel is dress your wounds. You should have defended yourself from those talons, Sammy. The knife would have worked for - "

        "Why did you come here, Deanne? How did you know I was in that building?" he asked. Sam's voice was drained of most of its usual righteous indignation and emotion. "How did you know I was in trouble?"

        She reached over and messed with his hair, leaving her hand there to stroke his head like a mother would do with a small child. "I'll explain everything back at the hotel. Just know that no one messes with my Sammy. Okay? No one." She pulled him over to lean on her shoulder and kissed his head. Although his sister hadn't taken care of him for quite some time, they fell right back into their old patterns, and he readily accepted the comfort she offered. "I'll _kill_ anyone who tries."

that's my soul up there

 **There's a Little Black Spot on the Sun Today** (c) 2008 Demented Stuff  
 **Supernatural** is (c) 2005+ Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland,  & Warner Brothers/The CW Television.  
"King of Pain" (c) 1983 The Police, A&M Records  
"My Lovin' (You're Never Gonna Get It)" (c) 1992 En Vogue  
"I Love It Loud" (c) 1982 Kiss


	2. There's a Flagpole Rag and the Wind Won't Stop

A _Supernatural/Miracles_ AU  
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)

 **Chapter:** Story 2  
 **Rating:** Rated Adult17+ for language and graphic sexual content  
 **Pairing:** Sam/Girl!Dean (Sam/Deanne)  
 **Word Count:** 4,943  
 **Universe/Series:** Ashes of Dreams and Bloodstained Streets V. II, Little Black Spot Series  
 **Timeline:** Winsister AU. Written for **10_switched** ; the aim is to write ten stories where the gender of a central character has been switched. Dean was born a girl in this story. Takes place late 2005.  
 **Warnings:** Sam/Girl!Dean. Graphic sex, consensual incest, brief mention of past childhood sexual abuse.  
 **Author's Notes:** Originally, this story was going to be platonic Girl!Dean and Sam and no "Miracles." Damn muses. I just can't keep Dean and Paul apart even when Dean is Deanne. Strange since there's no chance of them actually getting together. Still my OTP, though. You'll see that this is very AU for "Miracles" as well. Will contain season 3 SPN characters used in a similar but AU way.  
I don't advocate incest and think that most incest is far more emotionally damaging than what will be in this story. It is the unique relationship between Sam and Dean that makes any of this possible in my head. But for the record, I didn't want to write the story this way. Real life incest sickens me. I'm just following what the muses demand and seeing where the challenge takes me.  
All of the stories written in this series will have titles taken from the lyrics of "King of Pain" by The Police. More notes at the end of the story.

  
        Deanne found the quiet of a city at this time of night to be calming after a big hunt. After the blood and the screaming of dying beasts, the neon lights of a Vacancy sign, especially when seen through a wall of rain, formed everything that she knew of normal. Deanne watched the fast food places, the chain restaurants, and the car dealerships go by as she drove the highway with her brother's head on her shoulder, listening to the windshield wipers, _swish clunk swish clunk_ , and tried to just allow herself to relax. It had been a tense evening.

        Usually, she'd be all riled up and set for some action after a hunt like that, but there was Sammy to think of, and his mental state. His reaction had alarmed Deanne. It shouldn't have surprised her too much; after all, Sam had found out that his girlfriend had betrayed him and lost her in the span of an hour. But still, it wasn't like him to become so violent. Maybe a lot had changed in four years.

        The lights and signs of the McDonalds fast food places, the Carls Jr.'s, the Outback Steakhouse restaurants, the familiarity of it all going by, distorted through a wavery sheet of water, had lulled Deanne into believing that her quiet brother had gone to sleep. She was absently studying the form of the golden arches as they rippled across the windshield when Sam spoke, nearly scaring her out of her seat and through the roof of the Impala.

        "How'd you know I was in danger, Deanne?"

        "God, Sammy, you nearly scared me out of my skin. Don't do that, okay?"

        Sam persisted. "How'd you know I was in danger?"

        Rolling her eyes, Deanne replied, "You just can't wait until we get to the motel, huh? Alright. You remember that picture you sent me through e-mail? The one of you and Jessica? I downloaded it onto my phone and at some point, showed it to Dad. Lookit, Dad, it's Sammy's girlfriend. 'What the hell,' he says, 'I killed that bitch years ago.' Dad recognized her. She was the head of a siren clan, along with her two sisters. Dad had actually killed one of the others."

        Sam took it all in. "They look alike?"

        "Triplets," Deanne confirmed with a nod.

        "Then..." She heard her brother take a deep breath. "...then there's one more out there."

        "Yeah," Deanne said. "Unless someone else killed her ass. But if not, yeah, there's another Jessica-clone out there."

        Sam grew quiet, unreadable, staring out into the rain.

        Because he'd asked for the whole story, Deanne continued. "Dad thought that she was going to use you for the annual spawn as revenge for him killing her sister, and he was right. Our dad has amazing instincts, huh? I mean, I know you aren't really talking to him, but you gotta give the guy props. Anyway, each clan has their own night each year when they get busy, so Dad called in some woman to figure out which night it would be, someone a little more experienced with star reading than he is. He put the word out that he was looking for a weapon that would be effective against sirens and the Sword of Odysseus came up; we raided one of his storage units to find something he could barter with, and the trade was made." Grinning, she shrugged when she said, "I don't know anything about sword fighting. We were trained on guns, you know? Dad got a guy to train me just days before the sirens' spawn date."

        Sam, scoffing, commented sarcastically, "Dad couldn't come himself?"

        "That's a nice thing to say after I saved your ass."

        Sitting up straighter, Sam shook his head. "You know it's true, Deanne. He sends you to save me because he can't be bothered to do it himself."

        "You know it's not like that, Sammy! The last time you and Dad talked - "

        "Oh, we _talked_. It's more like we screamed at each other."

        She tried to continue, partially speaking over him. "The last time you and Dad said anything to each other, it was a big fight about you leaving for college. Things are really awkward between you. Because of that, he thought it would be better if I came alone. But Dad is here in spirit. He engineered the whole thing."

        "What a surprise," mumbled Sam, rolling his eyes. "You guys knew Jessica was going to betray me, you _knew_ , and you couldn't call me and let me know?"

        "Like you would have taken my call," Deanne replied.

        Sam let out a heavy breath, shaking his head again.

        "Look, Sammy, we thought we were going to have a couple of days until the spawning. This woman that Dad hired was a little off in her calculations. I was supposed to blow into town and take care of Jessica before all her cronies got here. But it didn't work out that way.

        "What does it matter? Sure, it was a close call, but I got here in time and we're okay. That's all that really matters." Deanne ruffled Sam's hair, running her hand down to the back of his neck and stroking her fingers through the fuzz there.

        Sighing, Sam's shoulders slumped and he gave in, temporarily falling silent. "What do we do now?" he eventually asked quietly.

        "We try to get a decent night's sleep and figure it out in the morning."

        Back at the motel, Deanne steered her brother toward the bathroom so he could shower, washing off all the siren's blood. Sam stood in the shower with his hands on the wall and let the hot water flow over his body until it ran clear. His pants had been rinsed and draped over the shower curtain rod; Sam wasn't even sure he wanted to save them at this point. Even if they could get all the stains out of them, they would be a constant reminder of the worst night of his life. Sam allowed the water to run over his hair and face and barely moved for several minutes, eyes closed, just trying to make himself accept that all this had really happened.

        While her brother took his long, drawn out shower, Deanne changed into a sleeveless undershirt and pajama shorts before calling their dad. By the time Sam finally got out, she was jotting down notes, her green eyes troubled.

        Sam sat down on the bed that was still made; Deanne had obviously claimed the other one. He couldn't help but look at her bare legs, her breasts in the tight shirt, nipples pressing against the ribbed fabric... Jessica slept in the same sorts of things.

         _Had_ slept. Had slept in the same sorts of things.

        He looked away, feeling a bit ashamed for looking at his sister that way.

        "Okay. Okay, Dad, sure. Talk to you in the morning." Deanne hung up. She glanced over at Sam, sitting on the bed in just a towel. "I don't think I have anything for you to wear."

        "It's okay. What's left of my clothes is drying off in the bathroom." He looked down at the towel around his waist. "We've got lotsa towels."

        "But, what are you going to wear in the morning?" Deanne sighed. "I guess I could go by your apartment and get you something."

        "Yeah," was Sam's only reply. His apartment. The apartment he shared with... a lump formed in his throat.

        "Um, Sam... you've got a decision to make tomorrow. After we get you situated, I have to take off."

        "What's going on?"

        "It seems we've been tricked." Deanne referred to the notes she'd jotted down. "At least, that's what Dad thinks. A few hours after I left, Dad and Bobby were rearranging the storage space, and they were ambushed by sirens."

        Sam sat up a little straighter, alarmed. "Are they okay?"

        "Yes, they're alright. But the bitches stole something from the storage space, and Dad has a theory about it."

        "What?"

        "He thinks that this woman they've been working with gave us the wrong spawning date on purpose. Maybe she wanted me out of the way long enough for her to carry out her plan. She knew if I walked into a warehouse full of horny sirens, I wouldn't be coming back tonight. Maybe she even hoped we'd both be killed."

        Sam, considering that, nodded silently.

        Deanne continued. "The sirens who attacked Dad and Bobby were from the same clan as the Jessica triplets. They must've gone rogue, betraying their own. I mean, they should have been there tonight, dying right alongside her, but - " She paused when she saw Sam cringe. "I'm sorry."

        Sam looked down at the floor, studying the carpet as he attempted to gain control of his emotions. "The woman offered them something they couldn't refuse?" he finally said, trying to focus on something else.

        "Could be. Something had to be worth helping this chick and letting their sisters die," Deanne said with a shrug.

        Sam nodded again. "What did they steal?"

        Consulting her notes, she answered, "An item Dad referred to as The Law."

        "The Law? What is it?"

        Deanne shrugged again. "I dunno. Some kind of box. After he and Bobby put the storage space back in order, they're going after the sirens. They gotta put a protection spell over all the stuff that's left. Dad wants us... uh, me... to head in the other direction so we can cover more ground. He says this object is very important. We've got to get it back."

        "So, this is what I have to decide. Right? You want me to go with you?" Sam sighed.

        Deanne, acting as if she was indifferent to his decision, said, "I just think it'd be better for you to be around your family right now. For all we know, the rest of the sirens could come back for you." His sister stopped there, not wanting to bring up how worried she was about his mental state after his entire life had been torn apart. Deanne couldn't have articulated why, but she felt she couldn't let him know just how badly she needed her brother to come with her.

        "I don't know. I have a whole life here. School, ah..." Sam started to name more of these urgent life things that he needed to take care of, but he instantly realized that they all revolved around Jessica. His mouth opened and closed on unspoken words. "I... I'll have to think about it."

        "Well, think fast, because we've got to go after this thing in the morning. Dad doesn't think that she'll be able to move it very fast; it's a pretty powerful and volatile religious artifact," Deanne revealed.

        "What _is_ it?" Sam asked again, curious.

        "I told you, it's a box called The Law."

        He looked at her for a short time before shaking his head and making a disapproving sound. "You're going to go running after this thing just because Dad tells you to, and you don't even know what it is."

        She glared at him, irritated with his neurotic need to always question everything their father did. "I don't need to know everything about it. All I need to know is that we have to get it back."

        Sam rolled his eyes.

        To demonstrate that she knew more than he thought, Deanne started to rattle off information about the artifact. "It's a box covered with cloths and there are these rings on the side of it that you put these poles through so you can carry it without touching it. Dad said we shouldn't even really look at it. Just leave the cloths on it and carry it by the poles. I trust him to know what he's talking about."

        "Wait, we can't even look at it or touch it?"

        "Dad didn't think we should take the chance."

        "What the fuck is it?" Sam asked again, more insistently than ever before.

        Deanne just shrugged once more. "Whatever it is, the Catholic church wants it. Dad was going to deliver it to the Archdio... the Arc..."

        "The Archdiocese?"

        "Yeah, those guys. He was going to deliver it to them in Boston next week. They were pretty upset when they heard it had been stolen. The head of the exchange, Father Calero, warned Dad that one of his underlings took it upon himself to head out here without permission in pursuit of the people who stole The Law. He's apparently rather overemotional and does these kinds of rash things all the time. I guess this box is really important to him. We're supposed to look out for the guy and send him home if we encounter him."

        Sam nodded in understanding. "What's the guy's name?"

        Consulting her notes again, Deanne answered, "Father Paul. Paul Callan."

        "Oh. And do we know who the woman is who probably engineered this whole thing?"

        "Yeah. Her name is Bela Talbot."

*****

        Deanne's first indication that it was starting again was when she decided to be a little playful with her mopey brother and dry off his hair a little. They were about to get some sleep, as Dad had instructed, and Sam had grown very quiet, just sitting on his bed. Deanne turned off the light in the bathroom and came over with an extra towel in her hand.

        "Dad always says don't go to bed with wet hair, you'll catch a cold." She threw the towel over her brother's head and started to rub it vigorously through his hair, chuckling.

        He batted at her hands until he could get the towel off his face so he could see, but allowed her to continue drying his hair. When she stopped, looking down at him and snickering, Sam suddenly embraced her around the waist and put his head against her stomach with a whimper. Deanne didn't question it, just threw aside the towel and began to stroke his hair soothingly.

        "I know, Sammy," she said in a soft voice. "I know it hurts. Shhhh."

        This is how it had always been. Deanne taking care of Sammy. That's the way it is supposed to be with siblings; the older ones look after the younger ones. At least, that's what Dad always said.

         _"No matter what, you're stuck with your family, Deanne,"_ he'd said to her once. _"And you better be damn grateful for it. They're the only ones who will put up with you when you act like a fool and the only ones who'll support you even when they think you'll fail. You take care of family, girl. They were given to you for a reason. Don't forget it."_

        Deanne had been damn grateful for her father and brother many times. But sometimes, she wondered if she really understood what it meant to take care of them. If she sometimes took it too far.

        Great Uncle Eddie used to talk about family, too. Mom's uncle. Deanne and Sam stayed with him a lot during their childhood while Dad was off hunting and they were too young to take care of themselves. Great Uncle Eddie and Aunt Maureen, an older couple, harmless and amiable. They never asked John too many questions, something he could always work with.

        Uncle Eddie had talked about family a lot, and the things you do for people you love. He most often said it when she was sitting in his lap and his tickle games took a different turn. Now that she was older, Deanne realized there were supposed to be limits to what children had to do for their elders, no matter what Uncle Eddie had said, and limits to how far she had to go to fulfill her duty as Sammy's elder sister. Making her heart, and her damaged psyche, understand that was a different matter.

        Confused about boundaries and left alone together for long periods, the two siblings had experimented sexually in their teenage years. For years, Deanne had only let it go so far, but she still learned a great deal about boys and how to keep them happy, how to shut them up, and how to make them do almost anything she wanted during those stolen moments. Sometimes, as it was tonight, it was about comforting Sammy, he who had always been maybe a little too sensitive, a little too emotional, for his own good.

        Deanne's lessons translated just as well to men as they did boys. Now that Sam was a man, and they had been mostly apart for four years, she sometimes wondered if he would still need her like he did when they were kids. If Jessica was still alive, if all this hadn't happened, Deanne figured he probably wouldn't.

        But Jessica had turned out to be a fraud. Deanne expected to fall back into her time-honored role of taking care of her brother.

        She just didn't expect the intensity of his need.

        It was like riding a bike. Deanne felt Sammy's fingers on her hip, running under the hem of her shirt, and even though it had been four years, she fell right back into it.

        "How could she pretend to love me, Deanne?" Sam asked, his voice heavy with tears. He slowly pushed her shirt up halfway, rubbing his face into her bare stomach. She didn't know exactly when he'd started crying, just that Sam had begun to sniffle and his tears now wet her skin. "How does someone pretend a thing like that for such a long time?"

        "Well, she wasn't human, Sammy," Deanne said softly. She gently stroked his dark hair, amused with how hard it was to smooth down every layer; each time she thought she had his wild locks tamed, another cowlick would pop up.

        Sam possessively squeezed her to him and planted a small kiss on her stomach, just above her navel. "She didn't seem like a monster," he commented, then added, "You smell like her."

        Deanne nodded. "They're very good at appearing human."

        For a moment, Sam just breathed in her scent before raising his head to look at her. "You would never only pretend to love me, would you?"

        Deanne, smiling, shook her head. "I could never fake a thing like that."

        "So you do love me?"

        Using her most soothing tone, a tone she rarely had reason to use, Deanne smiled down at him and assured, "Of course I do."

        Sam made a whimpery sound and hugged her to him again. A few seconds after, he looked up at her once more, tears streaming down his face. Deanne wiped them away with her thumbs. "Don't cry, Sammy," she whispered. She didn't really expect him to stop, just felt she should say something; those words were as good as any.

        He looked at her silently a moment longer, then slid his hand up her stomach, waiting only a few seconds to see if she'd stop him. Sam had always done this, lingering, caressing the spot just under her breasts, touching a spot just outside of the danger zone to make sure Deanne wasn't going to smack his hand as she sometimes did. Sometimes, it was in jest.

        This time, she did not hit him. Even to kid.

        Deanne had been giving of her body for her family for as long as she could remember. She knew it wasn't appropriate for them to still be doing this at their age, but everything inside her screamed that Sam needed this, and if it would end his pain, at least for the time being, she would do it.

        Feeling that he had been given a green light, Sam pushed up her shirt, revealing her breasts. They didn't speak to each other much during these little trysts, especially as they got older - almost everything was said through body language. Deanne kept smiling, so Sam leaned in and put his mouth over one of her nipples, sucking lightly with his lips. When she shivered from the first shockwave of pleasure that ran between her legs, Sam opened his mouth a little more and sucked harder, running his tongue over the warm, rigid nipple.

        For a couple of minutes, he moved from one breast to the other, sucking each one until Deanne's nipples stood out hard and red. Her lips parted, her mouth going a little dry; she tried not to make any noise although her body cried out for at least a small moan. Sam surprised her by grabbing Deanne's behind and squeezing it in both his hands. Deanne couldn't help but let out a brief, unready sound. Not wasting any time, he slipped his fingers inside the shorts and under the elastic banding of the legholes of her panties and pushed up on it, fingers sinking into the flesh of her ass. Deanne, making another surprised noise, spread her legs slightly apart. Sam teased with his fingers but only traced the skin around the entrance to her before moving his hand up to the waistband of her shorts and underwear and pulling them down. Deanne involuntarily trembled all over again in anticipation of where she knew this was headed.

        Sam leaned down, bringing his head close to her crotch. He licked inbetween the lips of her pussy and, not finding her clit at first, went in for another, more aggressive lick. Deanne moaned in spite of herself at the first touch of his tongue, but when he went in for a second, deeper taste of her, she breathed out a choked cry and braced herself on his shoulder when her knees went weak.

        The fact that she was deriving pleasure out of this made Deanne chastise herself inwardly. To take away Sammy's pain, that was just her duty. To take pleasure in being touched by her little brother, that was depraved. But, he wanted her to feel good; he liked hearing her moan in pleasure. The inner conflict might someday tear Deanne apart.

        Sam suddenly grabbed Deanne by the waist and spun her around, throwing her across the bed. She squealed in surprise. The sound from her own lips embarrassed her; she didn't make girly noises like that. Deanne didn't have long to focus on this as Sam's weight settled on top of her. His mouth went to her neck, his breath heavy in her ear. She felt the towel brushing her legs and his strong, muscular thighs pushing hers apart. Deanne's mind almost locked up in shock as she felt the head of her brother's cock entering her channel; she tensed up and let out a gasp.

        "Sammy!" Deanne cried, alarmed. There had only been one time before when she allowed the sex to go this far, only one time that Sam had penetrated her, leaving her heart heavy and her inner voices screaming at her in regret. That had been the night before Sam left for college.

        His face crumpling in tears, Sam begged in her ear, "Please please please, please please..." He was crying again, sobbing hard this time. The sound ripped Deanne's heart to bits.

        "Sammy... oh, Sam, don't cry..." She choked back tears herself from just hearing him in pain. Before she could rethink it, Deanne wrapped her legs around Sam's waist and squeezed, pushing him down and inside her.

        Sam took a hard, hitching breath that was half gasp and then moaned, "Deanne!" He didn't move, just felt himself inside her, for a few seconds before instinct took over and he began to thrust with his hips. Arching her back, Deanne buried her head into the covers with her mouth open in a throaty moan, thighs quaking. Sammy had grown stronger in four years, more built and muscular; his thrusts drove into her like a jackhammer, already slick with her juices. She wasn't supposed to enjoy it this much. It wasn't supposed to feel this good. It wasn't right. But Sam had grown up and filled out, and he was good, damn good at it. Deanne couldn't help but spread her legs further apart and allow him in to the hilt. She kept her eyes closed.

        By the time Sam came inside her, panting in her ear, she had already cum twice. Most guys had to flick at her clitoris with feverish fingers to get her even close, but he hadn't had to touch her there at all, not during the sex. Against her better instincts, Deanne had let Sam stay inside her all the way to the end not because she felt obligated to, but because she'd _wanted_ him to. Cumming hard and good, shaking all over and moaning shrilly, these should not be options, and Deanne knew she'd be mentally punishing herself for this later. The only thing she could feel relieved over was the fact that she was on the pill.

        And, there was Sammy, alive and currently not in pain, except for the sting of her nails in his muscular back. That was something she could be thankful for. Deanne started to move when she became aware that she was lying in a pool of her own juices. No, there weren't many who could make her that wet, bring her off that hard. And Deanne had _had_ many.

        Sam momentarily stopped her, kissing her neck twice, then placing a soft, gentle peck on her mouth. "I love you too, Deanne," he said.

        She wondered how he meant it. "Let's sleep now, okay? Get under the covers? You always liked the sound of the rain while we're trying to get to sleep."

        "I still do."

        He took his weight off her then, and they got under the sheets. On one hand, she would have preferred he get into the other bed; on the other, Deanne wanted him next to her just so she'd know he was safe after four years of worrying about him and not being able to protect him. Not being able to touch him.

        Sam, always a little clingy unless he was mad at her, wrapped his arms around Deanne and laid his head on top of her right breast. When they were teens, this is how he'd always preferred to sleep after they'd fooled around, naked or not, possessive and snug. Back then, Deanne had always spent the time between being awake and falling asleep worrying that John might come home and find them like that, and what he would think. Dad never did come home.

        She still worried what he'd think.

*****

        The red eye to California. Father Paul Callan would be there in only a few hours, and then maybe he could still the growing panic in his chest.

        Father Calero, Poppi to him, trusted these people. This ragtag band of "hunters," as they called themselves. Paul could no longer trust them. They had lost it. They had lost The Law. The _Word_ , the fundamental law, and they had been keeping it in a storage space like an old couch covered in chili stains and cigarette holes, they had just allowed it to slip away, how, how, _how_ could anyone do that? Paul had to make sure it was found and returned, treated as precious as it was.

        Poppi didn't want him to go, but no one could stop him, not even Poppi. He was afraid these people who had stolen The Law would hurt Paul. Paul knew that didn't matter. All that mattered was the word of God. He would gladly sacrifice his life for it.

        In the four hours since Paul had left the church, Poppi had called him six times. At first, just wanting to know where he had disappeared to, then saying if Paul was considering going to California, it wasn't necessary, he shouldn't go by himself, and finally pleading with him not to take off all half cocked.

        "These people are professionals, Paul. Let them take care of it. I'm going to California in the morning to oversee this thing. You stay _here_ ," he'd said in his last call.

        Yeah, professionals. That's why the most important religious artifact in history was now in the hands of some two-bit thief.

         _Control your anger, Paul. Anger is not good. Anger leads to hate, hate leads to darkness. What is this, **Star Wars**? Focus. Control is fleeting to mere mortals. Prayer. Give it up to God._

        As he stood in line waiting to get on the plane, Paul began to pray to himself, to keep himself focused and bring him back to center. He didn't notice the people in line behind him, three persons back. A man, dark brown hair, sharp European features and striking blue eyes, and a woman, Puerto Rican, with long curly hair and softly arcing eyebrows.

        For an observant man, Paul hadn't even noticed them... but they'd been following him for months.

that's my soul up there

  
 **More Notes:** I've always wanted to write an AU where Paul became a priest. Here it is! ~_^

  
 **There's a Flagpole Rag and the Wind Won't Stop** (c) 2008 Demented Stuff  
 **Supernatural** is (c) 2005+ Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland,  & Warner Brothers/The CW Television.  
"King of Pain" (c) 1983 The Police, A&M Records


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